


Just Practice

by smolsarcasticraspberry



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, and like two dorks trying not to admit they're into each other, but super lowkey, even though they clearly are, kinda coming out-ish, mostly just fluffy domestic stuff, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolsarcasticraspberry/pseuds/smolsarcasticraspberry
Summary: Lance is worried his love life is a disaster, but Shiro doesn’t think he has anything to worry about."Just let me have this, Shiro." He bounced a washer off the table and into Hunk's favourite mug. "I need to win at something to make up for the fact that I'm definitely going to be alone forever.""Not this again," Shiro groaned. He glanced across at the younger man sat next to him. Their year-plus-change in space had given him a sterner look and added muscle to his once-wiry frame, but he remained as boisterous and energetic as ever. It was a mask that hid a lot of troubles, but they'd been friends long enough that Lance increasingly let that mask slip when they were alone.These days, the thing that seemed to be bothering Lance the most was his failed attempts at romance.





	Just Practice

**Author's Note:**

> [strolls in three seasons late with fanfic] so Shance is pretty cute, huh? 
> 
> this fic is based off a couple of my personal Shiro and Lance headcanons: firstly, that they’d be best friends because they’re both huge dorks; and secondly, that Shiro is the first guy Lance has ever had a crush on, so he’s kinda in the early stages of a Bi Awakening™ and Shiro kinda knows but isn’t saying anything about it.

The game was simple. An array of containers stood in formation on the coffee table, all snatched from various parts of the Castle: mugs and glasses from the kitchen, trays and bowls from the rec room, and a few boxes from one of the storage cupboards. Lance had lined them up in a rough triangle shape and assigned points to each target. The goal was to throw a token into the containers.

Unfortunately, Alteans didn't have coins, so the tokens were a little… haphazard. Shiro had scrounged up some bottle caps and metal disks and pinched a few metal washers from Hunk's tool box, but the end result was still a mishmash of different-sized projectiles.

Not that that bothered Lance in the slightest. He seemed to have a knack for hitting targets with anything Shiro handed him.

"Why do I feel like you picked a game you knew you'd beat me at?" Shiro asked, as he wildly overshot a glass jar.

"Are you accusing me of cheating?" Lance demanded, but the note of humour in his voice robbed the words of any malice.

"No. Just trying to get an unfair advantage."

"Just let me have this, Shiro." He bounced a washer off the table and into Hunk's favourite mug. "I need to win at something to make up for the fact that I'm definitely going to be alone forever."

"Not this again," Shiro groaned. He glanced across at the younger man sat next to him. Their year-plus-change in space had given him a sterner look and added muscle to his once-wiry frame, but he remained as boisterous and energetic as ever. It was a mask that hid a lot of troubles, but they'd been friends long enough that Lance increasingly let that mask slip when they were alone.

These days, the thing that seemed to be bothering Lance the most was his failed attempts at romance.

"I'm never going to meet the future Mrs Blue Lion!" Lance complained. He flicked the coin in his hands and Shiro watched it bounce over the tin tray and straight into a white glass.

Lance picked up his next counter and rolled it idly between his fingers. He flopped back on the sofa, legs splayed and arms loosely crossed over his chest.

Shiro weighted a bottle cap in his hand and tossed it towards a blue cup. It missed by inches, and Lance snorted.

"You're overthinking things," Shiro said. He tried again with another bottle cap, and this time actually dinked the rim of the cup before the cap bounced away and rolled onto the floor. He sat back on the sofa next to Lance, their shoulders brushing and forearms almost touching.

"Am I? Am I, Shiro?" Lance turned in his seat to face Shiro, and his hand brushed Shiro's upper arm as he gestured wildly at the air. "I haven't even kissed anyone since we've been out here!"

"You kissed a mermaid," Shiro pointed out. He reached out and took the metal counter from Lance's hands, and skimmed it towards the targets. It careened off a wooden box and ended up under the table.

"You need to flick your wrist more," Lance told him. He picked up another counter to show Shiro how it was done. With one swift movement, he sent the metal coin skimming into the furthest target.

"You're the sharpshooter, not me," Shiro said with a grin, and when he glanced over he saw Lance blush just a little.

"Anyway, kissing mermaids doesn't count." Lance fiddled with another coin. "I'm talking about real kissing."

"You mean you want to make out with someone."

"Yes!" Lance skipped the coin across the table. It bounced off two cups and ricocheted into the 10-pointer. Lance threw his hands in the air in victory.

"Sharpshooter strikes again!" he crowed.

Lance's triumphant grin was so endearing that Shiro couldn't resist the urge to reach out and swat playfully at his face. Lance ducked his hand easily and flopped back onto the sofa again.

"Show-off," Shiro muttered. He sent a bottle cap towards the white cup and sat back next to Lance.

"What if I've forgotten how to kiss?" Lance said. "What if I meet the future Mrs Blue Lion and I'm so bad at kissing I completely blow it?"

"I don't think you can forget how to kiss," Shiro said. He shifted in his seat to catch Lance's expression. He looked genuinely worried, and not for the first time Shiro was struck by how much insecurity lay hidden beneath Lance's confidence and bravado.

"But what if I have?" Lance asked, his voice quiet. "I was terrible at it back on Earth. And now I'm completely out of practice I'm gonna be even worse."

"Don't be ridiculous," Shiro said. "You're not a bad kisser."

"How do you know? You've never kissed me!"

Lance shot a glance at Shiro, eyes wide, as if he hadn't expected the words to come out of his mouth. But before Shiro could say anything, Lance ploughed on.

"What if I'm terrible at it? I'm gonna die alone in space. A 19-year-old virgin who's bad at kissing."

"You're not going to die alone," Shiro insisted.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm not gonna let you die."

It came out a little more forcefully than Shiro intended. But he meant it. And Lance needed to hear it more than anyone else, because some part of him always doubted his own worth and importance.

Lance stared at him, and looked like he might say something, but instead he sat forward and grabbed another bottle cap from the table. He bounced it between his fingers a few times before tossing it at the array of containers.

"I'm still never going to find someone to kiss me," he muttered.

Shiro regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. Because this was not the first time they'd had a conversation like this - and yet Lance never got further than 'I wish someone would kiss me', and that was starting to sound less like a complaint and more like a hint.

So maybe it was time to give him a nudge.

"Alright, Lance, I'm going to ask you a question," Shiro said. He put his hand on Lance's shoulder and tugged him around. Lance looked up at him; surprised at the sudden touch, but not moving away.

"I mean this completely sincerely," Shiro went on. "Do you want me to kiss you? You know - for practice?"

Lance's eyes went wide, and the words hung in the air. Shiro watched Lance's expression progress through shock to confusion to dawning realisation.

"But you're-- oh," he said. Lance's eyes darted sideways, and Shiro watched the thoughts come together and the mental calculations tick over towards 'wait, you like guys as well as girls?'. And then he watched Lance's eyes light up and his shoulders lift.

Ah- _ha_.

"I've never kissed a guy before," Lance said. His eyes met Shiro's, and there was a note of sincerity in his voice that Shiro had only heard in the most unguarded and vulnerable moments of their friendship.

"Do you want to?"

That line hung in the air too - and this time Lance didn't shift away from it.

"I… yeah. Sometimes. I guess."

His gaze searched Shiro's face, and Shiro felt the shape of all his unasked questions; the ' _is this normal - is this okay'_ of it all somehow given voice without the need for words.

Shiro smiled at him, and Lance smiled back. A real smile, genuine and warm and maybe just a touch awestruck.

"So do you want me to kiss you or not?" Shiro asked.

"Just for practice," Lance said quickly.

"Sure. Can't have you messing things up with the future Mrs Blue Lion, can we?"

Lance's eyes lit up, and for once he looked almost shy. As if he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"Okay," he said.

Shiro didn't give himself time to overthink it. He placed his fingers under Lance's chin and leaned forward to press their lips together.

Wait. Hang on…

Shiro pulled back. "Why do you taste like strawberries?" he asked.

Lance looked a little stunned, but his eyes were bright as he replied: "It's chapstick."

Shiro smiled.

"It's nice," he said.

And then he ran his hand into Lance's hair and pulled him back in to kiss him again; a proper kiss this time. Lance hesitated - hung up like words in the air - and then he melted into it. One of his hands threaded around Shiro's neck, the other clutched at his shirt, fingers tugging slightly at the fabric. His lips parted and their tongues met and Shiro kissed him properly. Just to show him how it was really done.

Practice. Just practice.

Then Shiro pulled away and Lance's eyes fluttered open. Shiro shifted away from him and sat back on the sofa.

"There," Shiro said. "Now you can stop complaining that no one's kissed you."

He kept his eyes front, and reached for another metal coin to toss at the targets, and tried to ignore the sudden ache in his chest. Where had that come from? Oh sure, it had been a long time since he'd been close with anyone but… the sudden urge to pull Lance against his chest and bury his face in his hair was definitely something new.

He glanced over at Lance and found him staring at the wall with a distant expression on his face. Shiro tried not to be flattered, and failed miserably. He poked Lance in the shoulder.

"You okay there, buddy?" he asked.

Lance nodded, eyes still unfocused, and Shiro laughed. He threw his arm around Lance's shoulders and tugged him into a rough, one-armed hug.

"You're cute, you know that?" he said, and kissed Lance on the cheek.

He resisted the urge to wrap Lance in his arms and instead sat back on the sofa again and pretended to be very interested in selecting his next projectile from the tin.

Finally, Lance stirred and cleared his throat.

"Uh… Shiro? Can we do that again?"

Shiro glanced across at him, taken by surprise. Lance sat on the edge of the sofa - and his expression was genuine, without a hint of flirtation or pretence. He smiled up at Shiro with warmth in his eyes, and suddenly Shiro didn't really care if it was about practising or pretending. He grinned.

"Sure," he said. He hooked two fingers into the front of Lance's t-shirt and pulled him back in, and this time Lance kissed him without hesitation. His lips parted and their tongues met and Shiro stopped thinking and just let himself enjoy the sensation of being touched and held and wanted.

Lance put a hand on his shoulder and pulled away, just far enough to meet Shiro's eyes.

"Do you really think I'm cute?" he asked.

Shiro laughed. "I wouldn't kiss you if I didn't," he said, and Lance grinned back.

And then he looped his arm around Lance's shoulders and kissed him again just for the sheer novelty of it, and he forgot about everything except the feel of Lance's hand on the back of his neck and Lance's arm around his waist. Lance kissed him back, and he tasted like strawberry chapstick and an aching hole in his chest that was somehow, finally, being filled.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for Shance so I hope I got the characters right. Also I imagine that the inevitable follow-up to this is both of them being way to flustered and awkward to admit they want the make-outs to be real next time, because tHEY'RE BOTH HUGE DORKS.


End file.
